


somebody even better

by chubsonthemoon



Series: siblings siblings siblings siblings [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, furudate gave us miwa and then dipped so here i am, hinata does a meatbun commerical, implied kagehina bc i'm weak, spoilers for ch 387
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25685131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubsonthemoon/pseuds/chubsonthemoon
Summary: Kageyama Miwa and her thoughts on volleyball, baby brothers, and growing up.
Relationships: Kageyama Miwa & Hinata Shouyou
Series: siblings siblings siblings siblings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862536
Comments: 15
Kudos: 80





	somebody even better

**Author's Note:**

> [@mysterytwin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterytwin) said "yanno with miwa reveal that means kags is the baby of the volley family AND family family" and i tripped over nothing and this fell out of my pocket. so this is for you, janine <3
> 
> also, be warned that i know next to nothing about cosmetology, these are just my own experiences with going to get my hair cut LOL

Kageyama Miwa, age twenty-nine, doesn’t really have a strong opinion on volleyball.

But it’s good for business, apparently. The Haiba siblings have an unusual number of high-profile friends—there’s world famous KODZUKEN (still had streaks of blonde near his ends), and Tetsurou Kuroo, (bangs were uneven, always gelled up like a rooster), and, of course, her baby brother (new middle part courtesy of herself).

The volleyball world is close-knit and personal and a little loud, but Miwa doesn’t mind. They’re all good kids.

When she gets the text from Lev— _Kageyama-san! I referred you to a friend, he’s gonna be doing a meat bun commercial. I know you’ll take care of him!_ —her opinion on volleyball is, perhaps, bettered slightly. More work for her, but it’s good work, and she enjoys it.

***

The first thing she thinks is _red._ Really, _really_ red.

It’s so red she considers, briefly, if he’s dyed it, but no. His roots are the same violent shade; he practically glows under the studio lights as he stands to greet her.

“You must be Hinata,” she says, hand on hip. Strong jawline, hair closely cropped, bright eyes—he’ll be just fine in front of the camera. Most of the athletes she’s worked with seem to be. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Hinata’s mouth falls open a little. He closes it quickly, but his eyes are still wide as he leans forward—Miwa leans back slightly—“It’s nice to meet you too, Kageyama-san!” He blinks a few times. “Wow, you guys look really similar. Although compared to Kageyama—uh, Tobio—you look a lot nicer than him. Less…”

A pause. “Angry!” he decides, then smiles. “Well, he’s not usually angry, he just looks like that.”

She raises an eyebrow, intrigued. Tobio’s friends are a little strange, but there is no malice in his voice, only fondness. “Sorry about that; he doesn’t mean to be rude.” She waves him over to a chair behind the set.

“I know!” Hinata says, following. Even his step seems to have a little bounce to it—yeah, he was made for the cameras. What was it the sports stations called him? The Best Decoy, or something. “He was always yelling at me in high school over everything—it’s just how we talk to each other.”

She pats the chair in front of the lighted mirror twice, nodding as she reaches for her brushes. “I figured. You two are close.” It is more outsider observation than personal experience; she had already moved out by the time Tobio was in high school, so her knowledge of Hinata Shouyou is what she has gathered from the occasional text from Tobio _(dumbass?)_ and, more recently, the sports commentators _(ninja)._

“Yep!” Hinata says cheerfully, grinning at her in the mirror. He is proud, she realizes.

She checks her brushes, then runs a comb through the curls— _hmm, needs a wash, first_.

“Hey, do you have any embarrassing stories about him?” Hinata drums his fingers on the armrest, meeting her eyes eagerly in the mirror. “Like, from when he was little?”

She sets down the comb and considers if there will be consequences if she speaks. She decides Tobio can get over it. “I need to wash your hair. I’ll tell you some.”

Out of the chair again, and to the hair-washing station in the back. She moves around behind the seat, reaches for the bottles of shampoo and conditioner. Hinata sits; she lifts his head up to put the towel behind his neck.

“When he was in elementary school,” she begins, turning on the water, “he had a…an accident, in gym class. I had to pick him up. He was so embarrassed, he didn’t go to school for a week. Just tossed a volleyball around in our backyard and pouted.”

 _“What?”_ Hinata says, head popping up. Miwa gently pushes his forehead back on the rim of the sink and starts wetting his hair. “No way. He always makes fun of me for using the bathroom before matches! Maaaan…”

She starts massaging the shampoo in—Miwa gets the sense that he is not normally this still, that it is a conscious effort for him to be still now. She appreciates the effort.

“That’s actually how we met!” he says. “In middle school, outside a bathroom. He started lecturing me about taking care of my health after, like, five seconds.”

Miwa’s hands are methodical, making sure to get all around the scalp. She hums, combing through the strands, and glances at him.

Hinata’s eyes are closed; he is smiling, almost soft. It must be a nice memory.

“Sounds like Tobio,” she says, and turns on the water again. “I remember that day, actually.”

Hinata’s eyes open and he pops his head up just as Miwa starts to rinse; she puts it back down again. “Really?”

“Mmhmm. Tobio came home one day and told everyone he was going to become the best setter in the world.” She remembers looking up from her phone to see her usually impassive little brother, face concentrated, wrinkle in between his eyebrows as he declared a one-boy war on an unknown challenger. “Kazuyo-kun—ah, our grandfather—was really happy.”

Conditioner, next. She turns off the water and pours a little into her hand; not too much, just enough for some shine. Beneath her fingertips, she feels Hinata shiver.

“Whoa,” he says, eyes wide. He tilts his chin up a little, craning his neck to look at her. “Kazuyo-san played volleyball too, right? Kageyama never really talks about family—ah! Sorry, he really cares about you guys, he just…”

She smiles and straightens his head so he doesn’t get soap in his eyes. “It’s ok.” She examines her work so far—just a little more washing behind the ears, and then it’s time to rinse. “Yeah, he was the coach of a girl’s team in our neighborhood league. He passed away in when I was a third year.”

The shivering stops, stillness back in its place, and Hinata blinks, several times. When she moves away to turn on the water again, he scratches the back of his neck quickly. “Ah. So Kageyama—er, Tobio—was…in middle school, then?”

Now the second round of rinsing—when she’s the one in the chair, this is her favorite part, makes her feel all floaty and light. Hinata doesn’t move, though.

“Mn,” she says, rinsing the last of the soap off her fingertips. “He took it hard.”

The suds swirl out of Hinata’s flaming hair and to the bottom of the sink. “I didn’t know,” he says, almost too quiet for Miwa to hear. She pauses; Hinata has that same look about him that Tobio gets when he’s focused on something: eyes down, a little frown. She wonders what else her baby brother and his friend may have picked up from each other.

“Tobio just doesn’t talk about it, that’s all,” she says, shrugging. “Not your fault.”

“No, I just…” he trails off, and for the first time since meeting him and seeing him on television, Miwa sees something like hesitation in his eyes. “I knew Kazuyo-san loved volleyball too, but not when he…I didn’t know it was middle school…”

Hinata’s quiet for the rest of the wash, eyebrows working. Miwa wonders if she should’ve kept quiet, but then again, he and Tobio are close. No longer mere observation; she knows, now. Hinata knows about their grandfather, and that in itself speaks volumes.

Besides, from what she’s seen recently, Tobio turned out alright. She doesn’t have to guess why.

Hinata is still quiet. Miwa towels off his head, giving it an extra ruffle for good measure.

“C’mon,” she says, smiling a little. “Let’s finish this up.”

***

“I’m going to cosmetology school,” she had announced at the dinner table, in her second year of high school. Tobio looked up, curry halfway to his mouth. A moment later, he resumed eating, even while her parents started asking questions, like _where?_ and _what about your studies?_ She already had a list of schools, and apartments, and an answer that was more of a challenge— _do you think it’s a dumb idea too?_

She glanced at Tobio.

_No one understands what is and is not important to you better than you do._

He looked at her, unblinking. Another mouthful of curry, down the hatch.

“Cool,” he said, mouth full, and that was that.

***

He only sneezes once. “Whoa, what is this?”

“Powder,” she says, patting on a little more. “So you don’t look shiny on camera.”

 _“Awesome!”_ Hinata says, then closes his mouth quickly when she approaches the other side with another pad. “And that?”

“Highlighter,” she says, adding a little to the arc of his cheekbones. “This is so you can look shiny in the right spots.”

“That’s so cool!” He turns his head, assessing himself in the mirror. “Wow, my face looks…smoother? But still like me!”

“Makeup can do a lot, but for this shoot we’re going for something more natural.” She steps back and looks at him from behind the chair, styled curls and face finished. She nods in approval. “Alright, this is good.”

He swivels around in the chair quickly, hair not moving an inch—she was right to add the extra bit of spray—“Thank you, Kageyama-san!” he says. “I’ll do my best so your hard work doesn’t go to waste!”

She smiles at him—he really is the exact opposite of Tobio, when it comes to words. Perhaps that is why they are friends.

“Thank your manager,” she says, waving a hand, then steps around to usher him out of his seat towards the set. “He’s the one paying me.”

***

(Kageyama Miwa hasn’t had particularly strong feelings about volleyball since middle school, but then again, she doesn’t really feel strongly about most things. This applies to her choices, as well; she decides something, then does it. If there is a goal, she reaches it; if there is an obstacle, she removes it. If she wants it, she chases it.

There is a simplicity to it all, an efficiency. Perhaps it’s a Kageyama thing.

But).

***

The first time she saw Hinata Shouyou was actually not in a studio in Tokyo, but outside her own house. It was cold, near New Year’s. She was home for the holidays, suitcase rattling as she walked down the familiar street.

He and Tobio had been passing a ball to each other, Tobio’s motions smoother than she last remembered them. He was also a lot taller from when she last saw him, limbs no longer twiggy and shoulders halfway to their full width. Tobio, she realized then, was growing up.

Tobio bumped the ball to the boy with red hair; they were talking, but she was still too far away to hear any specifics. Tobio’s voice had its usually brusqueness, but there was an unfamiliar familiarity in its undercurrent. The boy said something that sounded like teasing, bumped the ball back with a laugh.

She paused, feet coming to a stop.

 _So this is him_ she had thought. Then the ball went flying down the street after the boy fumbled it, and Tobio yelled something at him with more expletives than Miwa thought were in his vocabulary.

She blinked—she’d only been gone for a year or so, now, but turns out Tobio did have friends. That was good.

They’d chased the ball far enough down the street that she deemed it unnecessary to introduce herself. She went into the house, and by the time the sun had set, Tobio was back from wherever the ball—and the boy—had taken him.

“Who was that?” she’d asked.

“Hinata,” Tobio had replied, munching on a banana.

“Friend of yours?”

A pause; he chewed thoughtfully, and although his answer came slowly, it was confident, assured.

“Yeah.”

***

The shoot goes well—Hinata only has a few lines and boundless energy and enthusiasm ( _Curry buns! Perfect after any practice!—Hinata, don’t actually eat the bun, you’ll get sick after like three takes—Sorry, Kuroo-san)_ —and when the director yells for the final cut, she packs up her tools.

Hinata bounds up for one final goodbye, hair clashing horribly with the red of his newly-minted National Team uniform—that’s gonna be fun in the editing room. He has his phone in his hand.

“Kageyama-san! Can we take a picture?” he asks, grin wide. “For you-know-who.”

She blinks. Then she nods, feels a small smile make its way to her face. “Go ahead.”

“Yes!”

They make twin peace signs in the floor-length mirror next to the door to the set. Miwa purses her lips for one, then smiles for the other; likewise, Hinata sticks his tongue out, then grins, ultra-bright. Then Hinata flips his camera and they take a few selfies, for good measure.

“Wait,” she says, taking out her own phone. “One on mine, too.”

Hinata _beams_. “Of course!” And they repeat the whole process.

“Thank you so much for today!” he says once they’ve finished, bobbing his head quickly. He waves his phone around and snaps the case closed ( _ah,_ Miwa thinks. _That design looks familiar)._ “You and Tobio are more similar than I thought you’d be!”

She hefts her bag over her shoulder and feels a rush of—something. Gratitude, perhaps. “Oh, really? How?”

“Hmm…” Hinata considers for a moment. Then he snaps his fingers. “When you two are working really hard, you make the same face!” he says. “Like…” He flattens his hair down with his hands—Miwa nearly has a heart attack before remembering that they’ve finished shooting—and twists his lips, furrows his brows.

Miwa stares at him, at his spot-on impression of her baby brother. And then she snorts, hand over her mouth.

“You know, Hinata,” she says, and he lets go of his hair, face returning to normal. He tilts his head quizzically.

She holds out a hand. “I’m really glad you and Tobio found each other. You’re good for him.”

His eyes turn as wide as saucers. He flushes a little and shakes his head, accepting her hand and shaking it vigorously. “No! I mean, yes! He, yeah, I, uh—”

“That said,” she continues. She raises an eyebrow at him, and he stutters to a stop. She quirks a smile. “I’m sure you already know, but Tobio’s very competitive. You’d better watch out.”

Hinata grins, and this time there is something like a challenge in his face, between his teeth, in his eyes—more burn than warmth. “I will,” he says, and then the smile turns a little softer. “I— _we_ made a promise. A long time ago.”

Then the smile becomes all warmth, and there is no doubt now—Miwa is confident that this feeling is gratitude, and she thanks whoever might be listening for Hinata Shouyou.

“Meeting Kageyama was good for me, too,” he says, eyes a little far away, voice fond with memories she cannot see. “And for my volleyball. Probably the best thing that could’ve happened.”

A moment later, realization dawns, and he flushes even darker. “But don’t tell him I said that!” he says with a splutter, voice a little panicked. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”

She laughs, light and airy. “Don’t worry,” she says. “He said the same thing to me.”

“Wait, he said _what?”_

Ah, she might get some deserved flak from Tobio for that one. Once again, Tobio can get over it. She smiles again and shakes her head, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately. “Thank you, Hinata. For taking care of him.”

Hinata starts stuttering again, so Miwa gives his hair one last sweep, flicks his forehead with a chuckle. When she smiles, he pauses, eyes going wide before he grins back, bright as can be.

He gives another quick bow, and she leaves with a wave goodbye to Kuroo.

***

(But if Kageyama Miwa were to write up a list of things that she truly cared about—and it would be very a short list, but it exists all the same—Kageyama Tobio would be damn well near the top of it).

***

 _Hinata Shouyou_ she thinks, on the way to the station, sees his flaming hair as she finds the best photo to send to Tobio. She thinks of that same red fire she sees in Tobio’s eyes on the sports stations and when they meet up during the holidays, something that must’ve been reborn sometime after the death of their grandfather but long before she noticed it herself. That same warmth, alive in Hinata Shouyou’s eyes.

 _Ah, this one should be good;_ they’re both smiling, and Hinata’s finally not blurry. She sends the photo with no caption just as her train arrives, waits in line for those departing to step off first.

She remembers empty kitchen chairs and the feeling of worn leather on her arms. Racing up a hill, the ball sailing through the air. _I’m quitting._ CDs she stopped watching. The quiet in their house after the funeral; the noise outside on the street that day. Tobio gone from home until the sun set.

Finally, somewhere to go, someone to go there with. The laughter as Tobio ran up the hill outside their house, another race.

_Friend of yours?_

_Yeah._

She pockets her phone and knows he’ll see it but won’t reply until later tonight—he has practice today, as he does everyday except Fridays. Even if it’s not right away, he usually replies. He’s been better about it, these past few years.

 _Hinata Shouyou_ she thinks, once more, before she steps on the train. _Well, that’s that._

She decides on curry for dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! <3  
> my [twitter](https://twitter.com/chubsthehamster) and [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/chubsonthemoon).


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